Dealing with Thick Blokes
by spooflover
Summary: Ginny is forced to take down the Christmas ornaments, and while feeling sorry for Christmas spirit, she soon gets over it with a little help from our favorite hero. Wish I had a Harry to help me out...


To all my lovely readers: This story was inspired by true events, however, since they are being posted in the world of fan_fiction_, I have taken the liberty of altering (aka: exaggerating) some facts. Namely, the fact that I was doing this with my little brother, not an older brother's hot friend. (Merlin, how I wish I had an older brother! Anyone have one? Want to trade me for an abnormally tall, sometimes cool but mostly annoying, hyperactive, just hitting puberty, eleven-year-old? No? No one? Ah, well, I shall continue to hope)

Anyway, this is just a nice bit of post-Christmas cheer for all you hopeless fluff junkies. (coughmyselfcough) Hope you enjoy!

_**Dealing with Thick Blokes**_

"Ginny, this is the sixteenth time I've asked you!" Mum cried, looking despairingly at the Christmas tree still standing in the corner of the living room, "Will you _please_ take it down? It's February, for Merlin's sake! Christmas has been over for two months!"

"But mum, that's like insulting Christmas." I told her, "If we take the tree down, it's like saying we're over it. And I'm not! I want to keep Christmas spirit alive forever!"

Mum sighed heavily, "Ginny, I know, but it's time." With that, she turned to the kitchen, leaving me alone with the empty ornament boxes.

"I'm sorry; Christmas tree, but I have no choice. I don't want to do this, believe me." I said to the cheerily decorated evergreen.

"Talking to trees now, Gin?" I heard a deep voice behind me ask, "What's next, rocks? Lakes? Perhaps the occasional duck?"

Turning I found a grinning Harry Potter standing behind me. "Ducks?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry merely shrugged and moved to stand next to me. Gazing at the tree, he questioned, "No, seriously, were you really talking to the tree?"

"No." I told him, "I was talking to spirit of Christmas." I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. "I was apologizing for the fact that everyone seems to have forgotten about it."

"Ah, I see," Harry said, wisely, "You realize its February, don't you?"

I turned up my nose, and scoffed, "Of course I know its February. I'm just saying I think it's so sad the way that everyone seems to forget about Christmas the day it's over. I think the feeling we all get at that time of year should happen all the time."

"What? You mean we should eat too much year round?" He grinned at me.

"No!" I told him, punching him on the shoulder, "I mean the feeling of happiness, and peace on earth that everyone seems to get. _Not_ the feeling of indigestion."

"Ok, ok, I get it." He laughed, holding his hands up defensively. "Well, it appears you've been given the sad task of ending the Christmas season." I nodded morosely, "Want help?"

I nodded again, and we set about pulling ornaments off the tree's branches. Despite the fact that he was now seventeen and could legally do magic, Harry decided not to rub that fact in my face, and helped me to take everything down by hand.

We'd been working steadily for close to an hour, when Ron appeared in the room. "What're you doing?" He asked, looking at us curiously.

"What does it look like, Ronald?" I asked him, rolling my eyes.

"I don't know, what?" He asked me.

I rolled my eyes again, "Honestly, Ron, how backwards can you get?"

"Would someone please just tell me what you're doing?" He asked, not even noticing my less than subtle insult.

Harry grinned at me in sympathy, and turned to his best friend, "We're taking down the Christmas ornaments." He told him.

"Oh…" Ron stood there in thought for a moment, "Well, you missed a couple."

"Thank you, Oh Wise and Mighty One." I muttered. Ron grinned, and nodded, then scampered off, most likely to look for his snogging buddy (coughHermionecough).

As soon as he was gone, Harry burst into laughter. "Hermione really needs to put him out of his misery." He chuckled.

"I don't know what she sees in someone as _special_ as him." I told him, shaking my head, "Honestly, she's an extremely bright, intelligent witch, and he's just… well, he's…"

"Ron?" Harry supplied.

"Yes," I agreed, "He's Ron. What any girl sees in him, I just don't know."

"Well, maybe that's because you're his sister. Blokes always seem a bit thick to their sisters." He told me.

"A _bit_ thick?" I asked him, "Try extremely, enormously, tremendously thick."

"Ok, maybe he is, but I still think you might just think that because you're his sister." Harry grinned.

"No, I happen to think most blokes are astonishingly thick, not just Ron." I told him, moving aside a full box, and carrying over an empty one.

"What? There's not one bloke you can think of that isn't thick?" Harry looked at me, incredulously.

I sat down on the edge of the sofa and pretended to think about it, "Well, there was… no, he was just hiding it really well. Oh, there was! No, no, he turned out to be an idiot. But, wait, what about—"

"Alright, alright, I get it." Harry laughed, "Now get back over here, and help me finish this tree."

As I got up, and continued to pull off ornaments, Harry turned to me, thoughtfully, "Am _I_ thick?" He asked.

"Yes." I answered immediately.

"Really?" He asked, "Because I don't think I am."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Harry, but you are. Not quite as bad as Ron, I'll admit, but you still are rather thick." I told him, barely managing to hide my grin.

"I am not!" He cried, looking highly affronted, "Ask me anything, and I'll bet I know the answer."

"Alright," I told him, "Who do I fancy?"

"Draco Malfoy." He answered jokingly.

I gasped, "Nobody's supposed to know that! How did you find out? Did Hermione tell you? Did you read my diary?" I gasped again, this time louder, "You read my _diary_! Oh, how could you Harry? I trusted you!"

Harry looked extremely alarmed, and nearly dropped the ornament he was holding. "_What_?" He cried, "You fancy _Malfoy_? I—Merlin! I was joking!"

At his shocked look, I lost it, "I was too!" I laughed, "Oh, if you could have seen your face!" I bent over, holding my stomach. "I can't believe you actually thought I fancied Ferretboy!" I gasped, tears streaming down my face.

Harry looked rather disgruntled, and glared at me. "Well, what was I supposed to think? You're a very convincing actress."

"Thank you!" I exclaimed, having calmed down enough to execute an extravagant bow. Harry scowled and we returned to packing ornaments. A few moments later, I spoke again, "You know, Harry, you've only proved that you really are quite thick."

"I am not!" He cried, "I can answer your question!"

"Alright," I replied, "Who do I fancy?"

"Hmm…" He pondered, "Well, no doubt he's good looking."

"No doubt," I agreed.

"Probably smart too."

"He has his moments." I answered.

"Is he in Gryffindor?" He asked.

"I'm not giving you clues!" I told him.

"Come on, Gin, just a few." He begged.

I eyed him for a moment, before sighing, "Fine, yes, he's in Gryffindor."

"Ok, older, younger, or the same year?"

"Older." I told him, wondering how long this was going to take him.

"Alright, well that narrows it down to a limited number of people." He unconsciously stroked his chin in a very amusing manner. "I doubt its Dean, since you two broke up years ago. Seamus doesn't really seem like your type. It's obviously not Ron." I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "That leaves Neville!"

"No." I told him.

"Not Neville?" He looked surprised. "_Is_ Seamus your type?"

"No." I laughed, "I try to avoid blokes with jealous, on-again-off-again girlfriends. Especially when that girlfriend has vicious gossip skills like Lavender." I grinned.

"_Dean_?" Harry looked positively shocked by now.

"_No_!" I giggled, "That would be pathetic. Besides, _I_ broke up with _him_, remember?"

"Oh, right." By this point, he looked completely stumped.

"Your powers of deduction aren't very strong, are they Harry?" I asked, quite bravely, considering the fact that I was about to hand him my heart.

"What do you mean?" he asked me, "I've gone through all the seventh year blokes. Wait, it's not a girl is it?" He looked positively horrified.

"NO!" I cried, unable to believe how incredibly thick he was. By this point, nearly all the ornaments were down, and we were standing amid piles of full boxes, tinsel, and pine needles.

"Well, then _who_ is it?" Harry cried, "It's not Neville, it's not Dean, it's not Seamus, I hope to Merlin it's not Ron. Who else is there?" He looked at me, utterly lost.

"You!" I cried, "You great, stupid bloke!" I shoved aside some boxes and leaped at him. As he caught me, and stumbled back a few steps, I planted my lips on his, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I could almost hear the wheels in head turning, until he abruptly tightened his arms, and deepened the kiss.

My hands tangled in his hair, his hands roaming my back, and our mouths fused together, I was just about to grab him and lock us in my room, when he suddenly pulled back. I whimpered slightly at the loss of his lips, while he dragged in a great, ragged breath. "I really am thick, aren't I?" He asked me, still breathing heavily.

I laughed, and pulled his head back down to mine. Just before our lips touched I muttered, "I think Hermione's discovered the right way to handle thick blokes." He chuckled, then pressed his lips to mine.


End file.
